This chapter includes Prompt 13 - An event that changes everything for the main character.

"Doc, what the hell is this? You know I don't like hitting women, and I sure as hell don't design the hits as something other than what they are. The fact that they are never solved is why I am your go-to guy. Faking a suicide is out of the question."

"Chase, calm down and let me explain. I expected this call and I knew what I was doing when I set this all up. We can't be on this line too long, so meet me at the place in an hour and I'll tell why I did it."

"One hour, Doc."

******

Exactly one hour later, Dane checked his watch as the car pulled onto the lot, killing its lights and coasting to a stop beside his. The driver's window sank out of sight and the two men faced one another in the darkness.

"I saw you look at your watch."

"Just checking."

Doc chuckled, and then gave a huge sigh. "The reason I recommended you, Chase, is because if I hadn't, someone else would have been given the job, and that couldn't happen. There are too many reasons to go into."

"Why?"

"There is a lot invested in this Rytex business. If it fails, there will be colossal damage to a number of very powerful people."

"Why?"

"You sound like a little kid - there's more than just getting a drug to market - other interests . . ." Exasperation fed his words.

"And that would include you, would it, Doc?"

"As a matter of fact. Listen , Chase, treat this as any other contract, okay?"

"Maybe I think big pharmacy should take a hit for a change."

"Chase, you aren't in business to venture opinions. Now please."

"Second time today that's been pointed out. But you do know I have some restrictions, so why put this on me?"

"Because I need it done right, and you are my go-to guy."

Chase frowned and squeezed the steering wheel, this was not a good feeling. It felt more like a setup, and he looked at Doc's expressionless, shadowed face.

"Who else is involved, Doc - beyond Rytex I mean?"

"You don't need to know."

"I think I do. I think you owe me an honest briefing." He stared hard at Doc's face.

"Maybe I do, but I can't. Let me just say I'm not the doctor you think I am."

"What do you mean?"

"Chase, drop it. Just do the job you're paid for.

"Uh, uh. You can have the money back and find another source."

"Dammit, Chase, I'm CIA."

Dane just stared across into the other car. That was definitely a jolt. He sat still, thinking hard about all the past contracts, the reasons given, and finally broke the silence.

"I've been doing the government's dirty work for you all this time?"

"What does it matter, you still killed those people? Would knowing have made a difference?"

"Are you kidding me? You led me to believe there was always a good reason, something that had to be done so good people could carry on. The government is not good people, Doc. They don't do it for altruistic reasons."

"Don't tell me you believed that you were being altruistic."

The statement hit home and Chase bit back a sharp reply. "There are plenty of other names that can do this, Doc. I think I'll take a pass."

"You can't, Chase. It has to be you! You'll be- you'll be merciful."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

There was a long pause, then in a quiet voice, "Paula Regan is my niece."

Dane's jaw dropped. "What! You mean you want her taken out?"

"That's the contract, Chase." Doc's car started and without another word, he drove off.

******

The bar was nearly empty. One or two dedicated drinkers slouched on the padded stools, hands wrapped around glasses, and glazed eyes puzzling over their reflections in the big mirror behind the bar.

Dane slid onto a stool and raised one finger. Chester, the bartender, set the glass in front of him and leaned on the bar top.

"You look like you got your tax bill."

"If only."

"And you don't even pay taxes," Chester grinned. He had known Dane Chase for many years and, without actually being told, made a calculated guess at his friend's occupation.

"Some days just come with a lot of baggage better left behind."

"Well, barbers and bartenders - we listen."

"Thanks anyway, it would only add to the problem."

"I can be discrete, Chase."

"I know, but this is a case of some needed valour to validate discretion, my friend."

Chester nodded, and straightened up. He took the bar rag off his shoulder and wiped where he had been leaning.

"Okay, but remember, I could probably drum up some valour too, if necessary."

Dane gave a grim smile and raised his glass toward his old friend, "Cheers, Chester."

******

The one drink made him realize he wouldn't be solving anything sitting on a bar stool, so he paid up and headed out to his car. Some tough soul-searching was needed, and a hard look at his principles.